Gaaah!
by Nolwe
Summary: All I can say: Poor poor seventeen-year-old Bridget! Please read and review. Flames okay!
1. Senior Formal Misery

Disclaimer: Helen Fielding? Never heard of her. This is original fan fiction! Don't you see the category? Origin – oh. Never mind.

Annoyed with senior formals? Me, too. Enjoy!

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~** MONDAY 14 MAY ~**

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Depressed. Chocolate bars 4 (if candy bars don't count – and they don't), tabloids 10 (had to catch up), shags since birth 0 (v. bad), girls in school: too many.

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Dorm, 5 p.m. Have decided that the world is full of sods and bastards.

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5:15 **p.m.** Hate the world.

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5:25 p.m.Hate the world and the people in it. Stupid policies.

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6 p.m. Okay, so this is how it is: Mum and Dad for some unknown, absolutely crazed reason (oh, wait, no. To preserve my "flower"... ha, as if that worked! Oh, bloody f-ck, wait. It did. Need ice-cream.) sent me to this godforsaken all-girls' school. The school has decided that, even though there are _no boys_, there is to be a senior formal. I am seventeen, single, rejected from Oxford, stuck going to some school I don't even _like_, and now I have to put up with Smug Dating sluts making out on a dance floor! And due to some bloody eejit who thinks it's _funny_ to torment girls like me, if I go alone, I have to pay double.

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7:15 p.m. Called Mum and Dad. Asked them to complain. 

Mum trilled, "Don't worry, darling, you'll find a man."

"_Mum_, I'm in an all-_girls_' school."

"What about your cousin, Freddy?"

"_No_, Mum."

Will not care. Will detach.

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7:25 p.m. I _don't_ care.

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7:30 p.m. WHY THE HELL ARE PEOPLE SO BLOODY INCONSIDERATE?

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9 p.m. The slut next door is shagging her boyfriend again. Bloody inconsiderate.

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9: 30 p.m. Saw her boyfriend run past my door with Mrs. Prune screeching and running after him. Slutty Rebecca got detention. Ha. 

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9: 31 p.m. But she's got an escort.

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~ SATURDAY 19 MAY ~

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V. pathetic. Chocolate bars 14, tabloids 0 (not by choice. Backup in mail.), possible male escorts 1 (pervy old geezer), possibility of going to senior ball 0.

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Dorm, 11:45 a.m. Jude, Shazzer, and I looked through the telephone book and found advertisements only for female escorts. Why do people think only guys need escorts?

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12 p.m. Ewwww. Shaz thought she saw a male escort number, but it's for "She-Males."

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12:01 p.m. Then, again, she-males are essentially males, aren't they?

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12:10 p.m. Forget what I said, we found a tiny ad for a male escort service.

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1:00 p.m. Jude made the call because Shaz and I were laughing too hard.

Jude started with an attempt at a sexy kitten voice, "Hi, I need three male escorts to a ball. 

No, we'd prefer straight. Dressed as men. Right, not transvestites. Your ad promises our satisfaction or ..."

A funny look crossed her face. "It says men."

Even Shaz and I heard the man laughing. Sounded like some pimp. He barked, "Just kidding, just kidding, kitten."

Jude hung up.

Jude says he said: "No, only one man. You're speaking to him." 

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~ TUESDAY 22 MAY ~

V. pissed. Chocolate bars 7, tabloids 0 (where the bloody hell are they?), ugly dress 1, mother who insists on ruining life 1 too many.

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Dorm, 4 p.m. Three days to senior ball because Mum sent the office a bloody check and permission slip without my consent. Jude's paid to go, too, and promises to keep me company. Have no guilt that she paid – money to burn, that one. Parents are in business.

Shaz refuses to go. "I'm not paying for two people just because I couldn't find some bloody f-ck to go with. This policy's forcing happy, single girls to ruin their lives by hooking up with male chauvinists that..." Blah blah blah. Need date.

Mum sent me a hideous dress like a clown costume. Jude and I are trying to fix it.

****

6:30 p.m. Ah, much better. We cut off the sleeves and trimmed the collar a wee bit (i.e., the dress is now low cut). Took off the ribbons and ruffles. Jude even sewed on new glittery straps. Shaz kept barking, "You two are trying to become a couple of suzy-homemakers. Stoppit." Meanwhile, who was reading "Ten Ways to Find and Please Your Mate"?

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~ WEDNESDAY 23 MAY ~

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V. annoyed. Chocolate bars 0 (ran out), tabloids 0 (turns out subscription expired), mothers set on ruining life 1 (still), homicidal thoughts involving Freddy ∞.

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Back in dorm yet again, 5 p.m. Gaaaah! Freaky Freddy sent me a letter. Mum told him I need a date! Grrr ... I will never EVER go with him. Ever!

Sixteenth birthday: Freddy's my escort, because Mum insisted on some fancy dinner ball. Had no boyfriend or male contact at that point because of bloody all-girls' school. Took lessons for ballroom dancing. Felt pretty and confident. Just had makeup done for the first time and spent loads of money on dress. Freaky Freddy stepped on it and the ribbon in the back ripped off. Was pissed. He then tripped while dancing. Made me fall on my back onto massive birthday cake with him on top of me. Could see in gross detail the hairs on his greasy pimples. My pretty hair became a mane of whipped cream. Looked like some weird sort of Catherine Linton. Except I knew for sure I wasn't pregnant. Durrr ...

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~ THURSDAY 24 MAY ~

Disappointed in being single. Chocolate bars 0 (still out), tabloids 0 (still expired), sadistic mother 1, dashed fantasies of Keanu Reeves-Bridget Jones romance many many many.

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Dorm (displacement is always 0), 6 p.m. Why is Mum trying to kill me? Got a call. 

Hoped it was a miracle and Keanu Reeves was on the phone vowing to love me forever and be my dance partner.

"Hello, darling! Thrilling news!" My mother.

"What?" Keanu Reeves called her to profess his love for me?

"Say pardon, dear." Grr. "Elaine just told me Mark is going to go to your prom. You remember Mark, don't you? Malcolm and Elaine's son, quite a gentleman, goes to Cambridge..."

Ah. Stupid smarty boy. Hate bloody French professor whose B- got me rejected from the cursed school.

I smiled patiently. "Yes, Mum. And what does that have to do with me?"

"You remember him, don't you?"

"Of course!" Actually, I didn't. Just wanted to get off the bloody phone. "Big, tall kid... with the freckles."

"No, not exactly... tall, yes. And quite handsome! You used to play naked in the Darcy's yard and run around him, planting kisses on his cheeks when you could..."

"What? He's coming _here_?" Cheeks burned with shame. Still couldn't remember who she was bloody talking about.

"Say pardon, dear. Yes, he's going to the dance, and you could say hello and introduce yourself, and—"

"_Mum_, he's going with another girl."

"No matter, dear, just say hello! You two are old friends."

"Mum, I have to go to class. Bye."

Mark _who_?

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6:30 p.m. Oh, bloody f-ck. Now I know who she's talking about. Cannot face him.

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6:35 p.m. What do I do _now_?

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6:36 p.m. Will not go to prom.

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6:37 p.m. But they have an attendance sheet. _They have a bloody attendance sheet_. Mum will have my head if I don't go!

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6: 40 p.m. Think will stay with Shaz in dorms. Jude can go. She found a date called Richard. Some guy she met in the park over the summer and kept in touch with. Shaz and I call him _Vile _Richard. Sounds gross.

****

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~ FRIDAY 25 MAY~

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Cheerful. Rebellious. Chocolate bars 0 (feel good enough about myself), tabloids 0 (don't care about reputed insanities of celebrities – unless that means Keanu Reeves will fall madly in love with me), chances of going to dance 0 (ha!), happy drink 1 bottle.

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5:30 p.m. Ha! Prom night and I'm not going. Shazzer found some drinks in the faculty room. Always thought the professors were a bit shady. Will mix with some soda... heehee, happy times...

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6:30 p.m. Ooh! Stuff is blurry goo. Mus hab mooooore. Oof. Think someting broke...

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7:30 p.m. Wooo weee! Purty stars outsigh... hahaha, Shaz is drunk off rocker... heehee, clown dress looks funny... mus fix... scissors here... wee hee...

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~ SATURDAY 26 MAY ~

Never felt so bad in my life. Chocolate bars 0 (can't eat, will vomit), tabloids 0 (feel too blinded by light to read anyway), telltale empty bottle 1, pair of scissors in hand 1, sense of dread growing.

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12:30 p.m. Woke up with terrible headache.

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12:31 p.m. Oh f-ck, what did I do.

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12:40 p.m. I'm wearing my dress. I can see up to China from the large chunk of missing skirt. Hmm ... wish fanny was fuller (wonder if I'll regret this wish when I'm old with cellulite). Gaaah!!! Stood up, and one strap is gone. Dress hangs weirdly from one shoulder. Look like some deranged whore. Hair an absolute terror. Have lipstick on like a clown. I think I drew some sort of weird cat whiskers on my face with eyeliner. Dammit, my eyeliner's broken. Must've sat on it. Shaz snoring.

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1 p.m. Gaaah! Shazzer woke up, wearing – I don't know where she got it, but looks awful. She has a jacket meant for a big fat man over her pajama top. Blue clashes terribly with the orange top. There's a tie around her neck like a scarf. She's got horrible sunshine-yellow flares on. Whyyyy???

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1: 15 p.m. Jude walked in. She looked really nervous. Shaz and I pounced on her.

"What happened?!"

Jude's mouth tightened, as if she were trying not to laugh. But she had this sorry look on her face.

"You two ... were drunk last night ... and came to the prom."

"WHATTT?"

"I tried to stop you two, but Bridget was waving her sewing scissors all over the place and everyone was afraid to come too close."

Grr. Why me.

"Is that all we did?" Shaz asked anxiously.

"No," Jude said in a small voice. She couldn't look us straight in the eye.

"WHAT DID WE DO?"

Jude drew in a shaky breath. "Bridget ... do you know Mark Darcy?"

"Who?" Shaz asked irritably. She was obviously thinking, _What the hell does he have to do with anything?_

"You know, Shaz, Malcolm and Elaine's son, student at Cambridge—" Oh bloody shite. I sound like my mother.

Anyway, from the way Jude tells it, this is how the story goes:

I saw Mark Darcy and swaggered over in the freaky dress. Was all up in his face and purred, "Remember me? Mmm ... you're sexier than I remember."

Then I sat on his lap, with him looking really embarrassed. 

Then Shaz started screaming, "See me? I'm her bloody escort! Haha! A she-male! You can't charge us double for that! Ha!"

I jumped off Mark Darcy and scuttled over to Shaz, and we started to do a weird, drunken waltz. After wreaking havoc and scattering terrified couples in our wake for an hour, we bowed and said, "It's been great, but we need to go join the pixies and fly to the stars! Wheee!"

Shaz and I ran out, tripping, laughing hysterically, and flapping our arms. Then I ran back in and gave Mark a great big kiss, much to the dismay of his date – some girl who probably hates my guts now. Shaz ran back in, grabbed my wrist, and slapped Mark. 

She screamed, "You blurry arse, stay the f-ck away from my girlfriend!"

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1:45 p.m. Great. Now the whole school thinks Shaz and I are some deranged lesbian couple. In an all-girls' school. That's bad.

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2 p.m. F-ck, f-ck, f-cketty f-ck. Received a notice to see the principal. Parents will be called. At least graduation is tonight and I won't have to see anyone ever again.

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2:01 p.m. Damn senior formals!

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A/N I must give credit to my friends. I have based many of Bridget's complaints about her formal on conversations I've had with friends. Also, I'd be very VERY happy if someone would be so kind as to review. Happy? I'll bow down to you! Flames welcome!

I really did notice in the telephone book that there are she-male escort services. However, I made up the male escort service because, in reality, there _aren't_ any (not where I live, anyway).

I'm writing this the day after my midterms finished. Ha! After this point, colleges won't see my grades. Must simply pass my courses. Hence, I am writing this instead of doing something productive. I like this better!


	2. It's a curse

First of all, I'd like to thank all my reviewers. *big hug* You guys are so grand! And because you're all so great, I'm extending my one-shot story to something a bit longer.

Secondly, I would like to thank Madhuri for pointing out that Mark actually goes to Cambridge, not Oxford. My mistake! Sorry!

*Deep breath* Here we go!

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~ FRIDAY 1 JUNE ~

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Mellow and wallowing in tabloids. Chocolate bars: soooo many. Mmm...

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6 a.m. Am awake. Why am I awake at this ungodly hour? Could it possibly be the chocolates from last night? Silence such profanity! Chocolates are all-powerful! Never bad...

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6:30 a.m. Hmph. Mum came in. Says I must be deranged. Being awake at 6 with chocolate wrappers strewn across the floor does _not_ make one insane.

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7 a.m. Have figured it out. Am upset because do not have normal period. Am now seventeen. Does that make me not normal? Maybe I won't be able to have kids - not that I want any, but ... will be old and never have children! Will be bitter old hag shaking cane from window to tell rotten nasty kids to go away! Sob sob sob... more chocolate.

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8 a.m. Told Mum about my predicament. She told Daddy. Now I have to go to the bloody gyno! The _gyno_!

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8:30 a.m. Talked to Shaz. She says don't go to gyno. Will be a pervy little man sticking fingers where they don't belong. Eww...

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9 a.m. Shall not think about it. I am a strong person... I am not... afraid... of little pervy man...

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9:30 a.m. I'm barren!!!

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~ SUNDAY 3 JUNE ~

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Stalker-esque. Chocolate bars 0 (need to diet for Greg), tabloids 0 (stories about female cults who have men in breeding stalls that give sex on command too tempting at this point), disturbing thoughts of men rejecting me due to sterility: many.

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12 p.m. It just hit me. Have finally graduated from godforsaken all-girls' school! Am freeeee!!!

In first act of rebellion, will ask a boy - no, a _man_ - on a date! Yes! A random college man!

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1 p.m. Shazzer knows some bloke down at a skating rink. Good buddies with him, supposedly. Why did she never tell me this before? And how does _she_ know guys?

Anyway, his name is Greg. A rink guard. Mmm... working man in college. Paying off his own debts. How noble.

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1:04 p.m. Greg (Keanu Reeves look-alike) picked me up in his strong arms and vowed to love me forever. So handsome... so strong... all those muscles from skating...

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1:05 p.m. Ouch! Shaz pinched me to wake me up from revelry. Damn! Was just a dream!

Okay, now am off to meet this... _man_...

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2:30 p.m. You know... sometimes, just _sometimes_... *shaking fist angrily*

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2:45 p.m. Have calmed down. Greg doesn't work on Sundays, and Sundays alone. Will see him another time. But how can I leave the house again without mum suspecting anything?

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~ TUESDAY 5 JUNE ~

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Angry at lying forecasters. Chocolate bars 0 (still on diet), tabloids 12 (HAD to...), beautiful, silky hair promised in shampoo advertisements: non-existent.

1 p.m. Am dreadful liar and will feel properly ashamed... in a few days. Told Mum Shaz and I were going bowling with Jude. Which reminds me: Jude has settled into a relationship with Vile Richard. Of all the vile people in the world, did she _have_ to hook up with the one who witnessed Shaz and me at the formal? Err...

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2 p.m. Walked all the way to skating rink to alleviate guilt of lying to Mum. Not such a horrible lie. Am simply meeting a random man I know nothing about for a date! 

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2:10 p.m. Forecasters with dazzling white smiles promised lots of sun. Therefore, refused to take any form of transportation on three-mile trip to rink. A lovely mist frizzed my hair into puff ball. Couldn't enter rink to see Greg looking that way! Also, had no money, so had to walk all the way back.

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~ THURSDAY 7 JUNE ~

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Horrible!!! Chocolate bars 40 (given circumstances, v. v. good), tabloids 2 (couldn't carry many from store, had to hold box of chocolates), pervy old stalker 1.

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2:45 p.m. Didn't trust forecasters, who promised lots of sun again. Decided to take cab this time. Of course, was very sunny.

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2:55 p.m. I see Greg! He's walking this way on his skates! So tall, so strong, so handsome... a manly man! Now he's greeting Shaz... this is it!

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3 p.m. Couldn't talk to him. He walked right by.

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3:05 p.m. Shaz offered to give him a "preface" - let him know who I am (sexy girl), what I want (a man), who I'm looking for (Greg!), and why (I needa shag!).

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3:30 p.m. Whyyyyy is Shaz taking a bloody hour???

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3:45 p.m. Shazzer...

3:55 p.m. You bloody slag, I'm going to kill - gaaah!!!

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4 p.m. Oh! Was Shaz! Innocently closed diary to prevent a nasty situation. Shaz didn't notice. Actually, she looked terrible. Asked her what's wrong. She ran to bathroom. 

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4:05 p.m. Can see Greg looking at me through glass door. Did he tell Shaz I was the vilest girl he ever saw and no man in his right mind would go out with me? _Am I that ugly??? _

Must run away before he sees me blush.

****

4:10 p.m. OMIGAD!!! Shaz is such an eeeejit! Her conversation with Greg (minus a hour's worth of shite):

"So, Greg, what do you think of that girl I came with?"

"Who?"

"The girl right there." (points at me. At that point, am staring blankly into space, rocking back and forth on heels. How attractive.)

"Oh... why?"

"She's looking for someone to take out on a date."

Greg blushes and giggles. Then a pregnant pause, in which it slowly dawns on Greg why Shaz is talking to him. "Oh ... me?"

Shaz nods. 

Greg blushes and giggles for another hour (makes you wonder about his sexuality).

"Oh, I feel so honored! But it would be... kind of awkward, wouldn't it?"

"Why would it be?"

"Well... I'm so much older than she is..."

"What are you talking about? You're only nineteen!"

"No, Shaz. I'm thirty."

Silence.

"Wha—!"

"And I'm married." Greg pauses for thought. "But I _have_ been getting a little bored with my wife lately..."

Shaz mouths noiselessly like a fish. Finally, she cries, "What the hell are you still doing in college? _And where's your bloody ring_?"

Greg raises an eyebrow. Then he runs off, exclaiming

****

4:15 p.m. Was ready to bolt. But Shaz didn't finish bloody story yet.

Instead, she was mouthing something I couldn't understand. 

By the time I realized what she was saying, was shaking Shaz by the shoulders, shouting, "What? What? What the fuck did he say?"

Her message? "He's right behind you."

****

4:20 p.m. Hmm... wish I didn't wear high heels today. Turns out, without his skates, and I with my massive heels, Greg's three inches shorter. But I can'tjust walk out of here! I first brought up the idea of an affair! 

No, Bridget, that was _him_. All _you _wanted was a date with a nineteen-year-old. 

But he seems really nice!

Gah! Listen to me! I'm becoming a schizo. Stoppit...

****

4:25 p.m. Oh, fucketty-fuck... I'm such an eejit, I really am. Not only did I give him my phone number, but I sounded _so _intelligent. Listen to this:

Greg walks up to me. He says, very politely, "Bridget?" in manner of Henry Morton Stanley.

"Hello," I chirp sunnily, sticking out my hand overenthusiastically. " I'm Bridget!"

Erg...

****

4:45 p.m. Shaz obviously feels sorry about this whole mess. She paid for my cab fare and sat with me, patting my hand the whole way. Would've been comforting had it not been for her parting statement: "Don't worry, Bridget! If he tries anything funny, I'll file for statutory rape!"

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~ FRIDAY 8 JUNE **~**

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V. v. frightened. Chocolate bars 23 (must enjoy last moments of life), tabloids 0 (should not read graphic descriptions of people who go crazy and kill the women their husbands have an affair with), someone who wants to kill me 1 (gaaah!!!).

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4:45 a.m. Cannot sleep a wink. Am worried Greg will call. What if Mum picks up???

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5 a.m. What an arse. Good thing I wasn't sleeping. The weirdo called just now, and I managed to answer without Mum or Dad waking up. Strange convo:

BJ: Hello?

G (I don't even know his last name!): (heavy breathing) Bridget?

BJ: Greg? You sound drunk. Is something the matter?

G: Bridget, Bridget... (sobbing) I can't live with my wife anymore... we've been fighting so much lately...

Imagined self playing the role of motherly, soothing marriage counselor.

G: She kicked me out of the house when she found your name and phone number in my pocket...

Now, in a romance movie, this is the point where the man tells the girl he's right outside her window and asks her to run off with him to someplace beautiful and exotic, like Trinidad and Tobago. Instead:

G: Bridget... I think she wants to kill you.

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5:15 a.m. OMIGAD!!! I'm going to die!!!

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A/N My apologies for a cliffhanger. 

To those who feel sorry for BJ: I feel awful for Bridget, I really do. But we all know she will get her happily ever after ... a very long time from this point, but she does have her fairy tale ending. 

I think it would be fair to mention that all of the things that happen in this fanfic are based on things that happen to me - blown out of proportion, but truth is there. So, all you Bridgets out there, BE CAREFUL of dirtboxes, eejits, sods, etc.!


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